As the roots of the banyan reaching down 
To the soil that moulds beneath its shade 
Take life and grow to the light o’ erhead, 
So the Word of the Master told afar 
In lands that are dark in error’s power 
Sets free new life in souls once dead. 


NATIONAL BOARD OF THE YOUNG WOMENS CHRISTIAN 
ASSOCIATIONS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
600 Lexington Avenue, New York City 
1914 


WITH MISS RADFORD IN SINGAPORE 


MISS RADFORD 


To sail along the coast of Malaysia, inhal- 
ing the spicy odors from the countless palm- 
crested islands; to steam slowly past Malay 
huts as one approaches Singapore, built on 
piles afar out into the water; to watch the 
lazy dweller in the hut cast his line from his 
own window sill and draw up his evening meal 
from waters teeming with purple and amethyst 
jelly fish; to see the shore line rising green and 
scarlet over the hills, with rows of squatty 
houses painted light blue, contrasting with the 
palatial residences of Chinese, British and 
other residents set deep in luxuriant verdure; to 
breathe deeply the damp, warm air, inhaling 
no life therefrom; to move leisurely and feel 
exhaustion sapping the life forces of one’s 
being—these are surface impressions of Sin- 
gapore. 

The very mixture of races in Singapore, 


with their variety of moral and social 
standards, makes for a relaxation of the 
social code, which is terribly deadening 
to spiritual life. ‘The docks swarm with 
men in scanty clothing and few needs. 
They live in the light blue cottages, row 
on row, or in black weathered board 
houses, where the segregation of families 
is impossible. The wealthy, some Brit- 
ish and more Chinese, live in mansions 
set in tropical gardens rich in blossom, in 
foliageandinoutlook. A ‘‘middleclass’’ 
of small tradesmen, many Anglo-Indians 
or Eurasians, live in rooms above the 
shops or in rows of brick houses along 


the yellow roadways. 
The gulf between the ruling class 


and the Malay, Chinese and mixed races, 
is so great that social laws are hard to 
enforce and there exists a mutual indif- 
ference to some of the vital issues of life 
for both classes. Night, the only cool 


A SOCIAL HOUR BENEATH THE PALMS 


time of the daily round, becomes a time of pleasure, often a time for the 
drowning of care. Carriages with liveried servants drive along the splendid 
roads; the brilliant moonlight and the dense shadows of the tropical night 
both reveal and conceal a social life to which the West is happily a stranger. 
Splendid western women under the influence of the tropics lose their grip on 
the essentials of life. The Chinese and Indian population living in luxury 
unknown to their own countries, are apt to lose the excellences of their races. 
Those engaged in business are subject to the demoralization of luxury seen in 
those above them socially, and drawn down by the degradation of those mor- 
ally beneath them. Initiative, mental alertness, spiritual aspiration are sub- 
ject to deadly peril, but all the depression and relaxation of the tropical 
climate does not release womanhood from the pains and anguish and worse 
than death of the evil that follows disregard and ignorance of the laws of God. 
Christ and the power of his resurrection alone keeps those who are his, and 
the teaching of Christ is all that can help those to whom Miss Radford has 
gone. 

The daily routine of Miss Radford holds much of duty, much of burden- 
bearing. Singapore is within two degrees of the equator, so the variation of 
days is not so great as it is in the temperate zones. Dawn comes witha 
freshness that is soon succeeded by the blazing sun except in the rainy sea- 
son, and the heat and dampness produce a “‘steamy climate.’’ When she 
rides out she goes ina jinrikisha, under a sun helmet, carrying a double 


umbrella, for the sun is dangerous to westerners. The way is uphill and down, 
along roads bordered with giant ferns and wild ageratum, great shrubs of len- 
tina, clambering convolvulus and always giant flowering trees. Her first visit 
is to a shop in the level portion along the sea front, where the buildings of two 
and three stories have deep verandas and heavy bamboo shades. Her callis on 
some Anglo-Indian girls, to give them invitations to a Bible class held for 
them after business hours at the Association or ‘“‘Institute.’’ After a little 
ride she passes through a great iron gateway, guarded by a stalwart Indian 
policeman, who salutes her as she passes, and up an avenue of giant betel 
palms. The perspiring jinrikisha man dries his dripping form in the shade of 
a banyan tree, while she seeks the screened veranda of a beautiful Chinese 
mansion. A servant meets her and conducts her to the apartments of one of 
the ladies of the family. This woman was once a pupil in the Christian mis- 
sion school where the Association had its beginnings. She and Miss Radford 
talk about a class for Bible study among Chinese ladies. In this mansion are 
many other Chinese women, but it is only with this branch of the family that 
Christianity has had any influence. Some of the women of the household have 
been to England for study; others have scarcely been beyond their own gar- 
den limits. Taking leave of them, Miss Radford’s next stop is in a row of 
small houses near the Institute. She is made welcome in the homes of the 
poorer Chinese with a beautiful courtesy. The women here are regular 
attendants at the Sunday-school, coming with their children and receiving at 


least a little from the instruction which the children take so readily. Their 
husbands are away earning money, caring little what the women think or 
what their children are taught. 

The noon meal at the Institute is called ‘‘tiffin.’’ Miss Radford sits down 
to an American meal beneath the ‘‘punkah,’’ or swinging fan, which is pulled 
by a Malay boy outside the room. After tiffin she has a quiet hour of rest in 
the privacy of herown room. There is little privacy, such as we know in the 
west, in the houses in the tropics, because the doors are only half-doors of 
woven bamboo 
on frames, allow- 
ing the air sev- 
eral feet of space 
above and _ be- 
neath the doors 
for circulation. 
In the same way, 
manve of) the 
houses are with- 
out windows, 
only the blinds on 
Mem ved a TG a 
keeping out the 
storms. Late in 
the afternoon 
Miss Radford 
again calls her 
jinrikisha and on ABOUT THE DAILY ROUTINE 


her way to a meeting of ladies in a church on the lower levels, she stops to 
call on a family whose two daughters have been taken away by typhoid. Then 
she looks in on a class that is studying Malay. This language and Canton- 
ese are the two most common languages spoken in Singapore. Miss Rad- 
ford’s duties also take her to the home of a lady who has promised to teach a 
class in needlework. The meeting she reaches at five-fifteen, put thus late in 
the day to avoid the heat and to secure the attendance of the ladies of the 
committee. Tea is served on the wide veranda overlooking the harbor. Plans 
are made to further the building campaign which began in January of 1914. 
The meeting closes in time for Miss Radford to take a tram, or street car, out 
along the shore to the docks. She watches the mail ship from Europe make 
fast and hasa hearty greeting fora Frenchwoman who was preceded by a let- 
ter to Miss Radford, asking her to take her in and care for her until her ship 
should proceed to the French port in South China. With her guest she 
returns to the Institute that houses several boarders, young women who have 
no other home in Singapore. After dinner Miss Radford has her Bible class 
for business girls, who are learning what friendship means with a woman who 
isGod’s. The Institute girls gather for prayers and long after they seek their 
rest the secretary remains in intercesssion for them and for those whom God 
has put on her heart. Her retiring hour is the hour we of the West are aris- 
ing to our tasks. We have but one language, one or two races to meet; our 
women are free; our prejudices fewer; our opportunities—how infinitely 
greater! It is our privilege to share through Miss Radford the work for the 
women of the tropics—to take onto our hearts in prayer their burdens, their 
sorrows, their needs. 


